


Second Time Around

by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Boys Are Dumb, F/M, Mild Profanity, Will probably be AU in two weeks, awkward teenagers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-13 16:51:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3389135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/pseuds/Karasuno%20Volleygays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Iwaizumi Hajime meets Shimizu Kiyoko face to face, it is not under the most desirable circumstances. But something about her makes him hope that it isn't the last time he runs into the quiet steel of Karasuno's admittedly attractive manager.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is off the cuff and not at all what I had planned on doing today, but I read a great fic with this pairing and decided there isn't enough of it on the archives. As is, it probably sucks, but here's hoping it can go somewhere interesting.

If Iwaizumi had to assign a taste to defeat, it would be rotten eggs. Vile, bitter, and stagnant. Their changing room at the Sendai City Gymnasium reeked of its pungent flavor.

He had known that Karasuno wouldn’t be easily defeated a second time, and they had proven him correct in the most heart-breaking manner possible — by destroying Oikawa’s last chance to take down Ushijima Wakatoshi. He knew he would probably be spending his next couple of evenings sleeping on Oikawa’s floor, mopping melted ice cream off of his friend’s reddened, snotty face.

If that wasn’t enough, there was one matter that nagged in the back of his mind, and he wass pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to sleep until it was handled. Iwaizumi could easily go the rest of his life without speaking to a member of the Karasuno Volleyball Club, even if they were fantastic to watch as a spectator. However, one conversation needed to occur between their sparring clubs, even in the wake of this stinging, stinking defeat at their hands.

Iwaizumi did not excuse himself from the changing room before he walked out, still wearing his sweat-drenched uniform.

It wasn’t difficult to find Karasuno’s changing room; the sounds of their obnoxious skinhead wing spiker and deceptively loud libero echoed out of the room and spilled through the surrounding hallways. Small Fry chimed in with his idiotic senpai, and Iwaizumi was pretty sure he could hear Sawamura bellowing for them all to shut up.

On any other day, the sound would have drawn a smile out of the Seijou ace. But not that day.

Taking a deep breath, Iwaizumi leaned against the wall outside the room and waited.

After about five minutes, someone emerged. Kageyama started and dropped his shoulder bag when he saw his former teammate and senpai.

Ten seconds of uncomfortably intense staring later, Kageyama asked, “Iwaizumi-san! Is there something you needed?”

Nodding, Iwaizumi said, “I was hoping I could have a word with your manager.”

The mention of the team manager brought a mixture of confusion and apprehension to Kageyama’s already sour expression. “Not so loud,” Kageyama said with an air of conspiracy that Iwaizumi was not sure he understood. “Nishinoya-senpai and Tanaka-san don’t let anyone talk to Shimizu-senpai.”

 _Figures_ , Iwaizumi thought, that the two loud clowns on the Karasuno team would also double as guard dogs for the admittedly beautiful manager. Shaking his head, he said, “That’s not why I’m here. Something happened before the match, and I owe both of your managers an apology.”

Kageyama’s eyes widened. “ _Ossu_.” Without another word, he slipped back into the changing room and emerged with the third year manager, Shimizu, in tow. “Shimizu-senpai, this is Iwaizumi-san.”

Shimizu regarded Iwaizumi with an almost uncomfortable level of intensity, which belied her calm and pretty face. Wanting to break the scrutiny, or at least his awareness of it, he bowed. “Kageyama, could you give us a minute?”

Iwaizumi expected Kageyama to object, but the younger boy was surprisingly willing to leave his manager alone with an opponent. However, he was not in a position to complain, as he didn't want any more of an audience than necessary for this regrettable piece of business.

“Shimizu-san, I would like to apologize for what happened before the match, during warm-ups.”

Straightening, Iwaizumi saw her regarding him, but with a different expression. Her soft features were almost leaden, and her eyes narrowed. “No,” she said. He was surprised that her wispy, almost mousy voice was edged in steel.

He felt himself scowl. “May I ask why you won’t accept my apology, Shimizu-san?”

“I won’t accept it because it is neither my place to accept, nor is it your apology to give.”

And now, Iwaizumi was utterly confused. “My badly aimed spike nearly injured your manager kouhai. You obviously saw it, since you blocked the hit.”

“Yes, I saw it.” _Is that a snarl?_ “As I said, it is not your apology Yachi-kun deserves.”

Iwaizumi struggled to figure out exactly how he was misinterpreting this situation. “Is it because she wasn’t looking?” he mused aloud. “That still doesn’t excuse my piss-poor aim.”

Shimizu shook her head in one definitive motion. “Perhaps you should ask your other setter why she wasn’t looking in the first place. Then you will understand.”

Without another word, Shimizu turned and headed back into the Karasuno changing room, a mask of calm draping over her previously agitated face with an almost enviable ease.

Snorting, Iwaizumi turned back to his own locker room to do as Shimizu had directed — have a conversation with Yahaba.

The team was largely as he had left them — lingering in a sweat-soaked stupor. Yahaba lounged dejectedly between Kyoutani and Kindaichi, his head hanging between his knees. Iwaizumi nearly felt bad for disturbing his period of grief, but something about the way Shimizu had become icy made him feel like the matter needed to be handled right away.

“Yahaba,” Iwaizumi barked, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. “Outside. Now.”

The entire room stared as Yahaba followed Iwaizumi out into the hallway, sharing the second year setter’s lack of understanding.

Once they were in the hallway and a good distance away from the Seijou changing room, Iwaizumi crossed his arms, jaw set, and said, “I spoke with Shimizu-san, Karasuno’s manager.”

Part of Iwaizumi hoped that nothing would come of this conversation, but when he saw Yahaba blanch, he had a feeling that it was a fruitless wish. “Talk. Now.”

“I’m sorry, Iwaizumi-senpai!” Yahaba nearly shouted, his eyes squeezed closed as if he bracing for a blow. “I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

With a sigh, Iwaizumi urged, “Didn’t mean for what to happen?”

Head hanging low, Yahaba stammered out an explanation of having thrown a ball just to get Karasuno’s junior manager to chase it, which had caused the distraction Shimizu-san had mentioned.

Iwaizumi had played team volleyball for more than half of his life. Outside of Oikawa, he had never had the urge to strike one of his kouhai as he did at this moment.

“I should wring your neck, Yahaba. That was low,” he ground out, now glad to see the younger boy shrink and flinch even lower. That sort of behavior was something he would expect from Oikawa or even Kyoutani, but never directed towards the slight, doe-eyed girl that he doubted had ever even attended an official match.

He could see Yahaba practically melting into the floor. With a grunt, he hissed, “Get up. You’re coming with me.”

Not waiting for Yahaba to follow of his own accord, Iwaizumi grabbed the setter’s arm and guided him towards the hallway where Karasuno’s dressing room was located, with a little more force than is necessary. Once they arrived, he said flatly, “Stay here.”

His frustration with the situation almost made Iwaizumi forget about how little he wanted to confront anyone on the Karasuno team as he knocked on the door. He was relieved when Shimizu answered the door. “Have a minute?” he asked as he sent a pointed glance towards his now trembling kouhai.

When Shimizu saw Yahaba, Iwaizumi noticed her mouth flattening into that icy, stoic expression as she disappeared back into the dressing room. She was only gone for a few seconds before she re-emerged with a short blonde girl in tow — Yachi, Shimizu had called her. Yachi’s eyes widened when she saw Iwaizumi, and they turned into saucers when they slid behind him and noticed Yahaba.

He immediately felt bad when the girl audibly yelped and stepped behind Shimizu.

Taking a deep breath, Iwaizumi waited for Shimizu to step aside before bowing to Yachi. “Yachi-kun, please accept my apology for the actions of my kouhai. He behaved dishonorably, and it will not happen again.” He stepped back and yanked Yahaba beside him. He felt a rush of gratitude for Yahaba when he noticed the younger boy was already bowing to Yachi.

Iwaizumi moved to the side and found himself standing shoulder to shoulder with Shimizu as he watched this startled girl blink in bewilderment at Yahaba, a hardened athlete who towered over her by at least thirty centimeters.

When Yahaba sank to his knees and began sobbing at Yachi’s feet, Iwaizumi couldn’t think of anything to do but tilt his head and stare.

“I’m so sorry!” he cried. “I just wanted you to look at me because you’re cute, and then you nearly got hurt! I’m embarrassed that I didn’t come find you on my own, that Iwaizumi-senpai had to make me do this, but I’m a shame to my school and to my upperclassmen.”

If the scene before him did not come on this particular day, Iwaizumi feared he would have laughed. A sidelong glance at Shimizu told him that she was at ease and, if he wasn’t mistaken, fighting a smile.

The ball, however, was firmly in Yachi’s court, and Iwaizumi watched her expectantly for her reaction. The girl’s face scrunched like she has eaten something bitter before her high-pitched giggle tinkled down the hallways.

Slapping Yahaba on his shaking shoulder, she said, “No harm done!”

Yahaba’s head jerked up in surprise. “Y-you aren’t mad?”

Yachi, whose face was now flaming red, said, “You thought I was cute! No one’s ever said that to me before.”

Iwaizumi couldn’t help but feel stupefied as he watched Yahaba spring to his feet, blushing furiously and waving his arms. “That is unforgivable, Manager-chan!”

And that, Iwaizumi decided, was enough of that. He could almost feel the second-hand sweetness rotting his teeth. “Yachi-kun, do you accept my idiot kouhai’s apology.”

As if she has forgotten he is there, Yachi staggered away from Iwaizumi. “Y-yes, Scary Ace-san. I forgive him.”

Nodding, Iwaizumi grabbed Yahaba’s collar and said, “Good,” before dragging his stuttering underclassmen back to their own dressing room. “Thank you for your generosity, ladies, and your patience.” Jerking into a curt bow and shoving Yahaba by the neck along with him, Iwaizumi dismissed himself and spared only one backwards glance at Shimizu to see that she was, hopefully, satisfied with the resolution of the situation.

He saw her lips quirk into a slight smile, and for a moment, Iwaizumi understood why Kindaichi fell all over himself when anyone mentioned Karasuno’s female manager.

Turning his attention, albeit reluctantly, back to Yahaba, Iwaizumi growled, “I hope you don’t intend to embarrass me like that again. Next time, I’ll just let Shimizu-san punch you like you deserve.”

Yahaba yelped, “Never, Iwaizumi-senpai! Never!”

Iwaizumi thought as much.

 

_Two Days Later_

It was around eight at night as Iwaizumi and Oikawa struggled to study for an exam neither of them could concentrate for, the sting of defeat still clouding their brains, when the text alert on the former’s phone chimed.

Glancing at his phone with a raised brow, Iwaizumi wondered who might be messaging him. Roughly ninety-five percent of his text traffic was Oikawa, who was sitting across from him with equal interest.

“Does Iwa-chan finally have a girlfriend?” Oikawa teased.

Flailing out a leg for a solid kick to Oikawa’s hip, Iwaizumi said, “Shut up, Asskawa.”

He picked up the phone and looked at the caller ID. The number was not one he recognized. Sending one last jab of the foot at Oikawa, who was sneaking sideways to steal a peek, he opened the message. His eyes subsequently shot open in surprise.

_This is Shimizu Kiyoko, Karasuno’s manager. I hope you don’t mind that I got your number from Kageyama-kun, but I wanted to thank you for the other night. Yacchan is not afraid of stray balls anymore, and she seems taken with your young setter._

Iwaizumi actually grinned at the message, imagining the spritely Yachi mooning over Yahaba. His mouth still tugged firmly upwards, he keyed a quick response.

_Any time, Shimizu-san._

Naturally, he should have known better than to let himself show any sign of happiness. While still reading his own text, Oikawa snatched the phone right out of his hands. “Give it back, Trashkawa! That’s none of your business!”

“Oooohhhhhh,” Oikawa crooned as he squinted at the screen. “Who is this Shimizu?”

Fighting and losing against the urge to punch Oikawa, Iwaizumi thrusted the heel of his palm against his friend’s forehead, smoothly catching his phone as it flew out of the backwards-falling Oikawa’s own grasp.

While Oikawa loudly complained and berated him, Iwaizumi saved the number and hoped that maybe he might meet this silent but dignified girl again.

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Between torrid bouts of studying and preparing the next year's crop of juniors to subsist on their own, Iwaizumi had figured that he would have little time to think about Shimizu. That assumption — as he came to know within a week after hearing Kindaichi mention her in the locker room, after which he may or may not have hit the kid in the face with an over-zealous spike — was apparently incorrect.

Of course, it didn't help when Oikawa found out who Shimizu was and stopped talking to him for two days.

"How could you, Iwa-chan!" Oikawa had whined. "Why don't you just date Tobio while you're at it?"

Rolling his eyes, Iwaizumi replied, "Because I don't like boys, you moron. And we are _not_ dating." He rubbed his temples, trying to ignore the growing urge to suffocate Oikawa's stupid pretty face with a pillow while hiding his reddening face. But there was a minor and irritating truth to Oikawa's whining in that his friend might have been fixated in Shimizu as a distraction from their loss to Karasuno.

Plus, he really did want to see her again, and that desire was more prevalent in his mind than his physics final, which was approaching at an alarming rate.

After a week of botched homework and Oikawa's constant bitching, Iwaizumi sighed and picked up his phone. He keyed a quick text to Shimizu to test the waters.

_Hi, Shimizu-san. This is Iwaizumi Hajime. My grandmother's birthday is coming soon, and she lives in the Karasuno area. Do you know of any good vegetarian restaurants in the area so I can treat her to dinner?_

Well, it wasn't exactly untrue. His grandmother did live near Karasuno High School, even if her birthday was not for another two months. Also, he did intend on taking her out to dinner, and he didn't dare take her somewhere without vegetarian options, as nearly all of his family were adamantly against eating meat. Iwaizumi did not share their zeal, but he ate meat so rarely that it usually didn't agree with him when he did.

Iwaizumi did not expect an answer so soon, but Shimizu replied almost as soon as he had sent the text.

_Shenzan, which is a block away from the school, is probably your best bet. The only meat they serve is fish, and their agedashi tofu is a personal favorite._

He absolutely refused to acknowledge the flair of excitement upon learning that his favorite food was also hers. However, he was not going to waste this opportunity to open a dialogue.

_At the risk of sounding like I'm hitting on you, would you care to join me there for lunch so I can scout out the menu? My grandmother is a...difficult woman to please, and if I want to stay in the will, I have to get this right. God, that sounded more horrible than it did in my head! Anyway, it would be my treat for helping me out. Please feel free to tell me to go to hell if this is too forward._

Although he was very much alone, Iwaizumi felt his face flame as he sent the text. That was, without a doubt, the worst attempt to pick up on a girl he had ever witnessed, and that was including dozens of Oikawa's absurd escapades in dating. The worst part of it, he thought, was that he would do it again. He was a giant, flaming, hormone-fueled imbecile like every other boy at the tournament who had gossiped about the lovely Karasuno manager.

Oh, hell.

When the text alert went off, Iwaizumi nearly dropped his phone.

_I'm free on Sunday for lunch._

Iwaizumi stared blankly at the text before pumping his fist ever so slightly. He then promptly raided his wardrobe, desperate to find clothes he had never sweated in before. It was with no small measure of dismay that he almost ended up picking out his school uniform. It took nearly ten minutes of shuffling sweat-stained T-shirts and warm-up sweats that he turned up something he had forgotten he'd owned — a deep purple button-up and a pair of black trousers to go with it.

Maybe having his mother pick out his clothing here and there wasn't such a bad idea.

With a sigh that could have been anything from exasperation to relief, Iwaizumi replied and confirmed meeting at noon. She agreed, and before he could fully register what had just occurred, he found himself in possession of his first ever date. Now all he had to do was wait five days for it to get there.

* * *

Iwaizumi found himself awake at the crack of dawn on Sunday, unable to sleep any further knowing that it was finally _the_ day. He would finally be able to gauge whether he had a chance in hell of any sort of relationship with Shimizu, and he had no intention of screwing up. In the washroom, he scrubbed himself in the shower until he was pink and raw, and brushed his teeth three times until his bleeding gums forced him to stop. The thought of eating breakfast nauseated him, so he sipped hot, black coffee while he dithered about shaving off the slight growth of hair on his chin. In the end, he decided the danger of possibly lacerating himself with his unsteady hands was not worth the negligible payoff.

He inspected every seam and panel and stitch of his outfit, making sure he would not suffer from any sort of wardrobe malfunction. Once he was satisfied, he dressed and was relieved that the outfit still fit him well enough.

Turning once, twice, three times in front of the bathroom mirror, Iwaizumi frowned when his gaze fell upon his hair. For as long as he could remember, it had an unfortunate allergy to gravity, sticking up every which way. Grumbling, he dug out his hair gel and forced his unruly locks into a style that Oikawa had been trying to foist on him for years, which made him look like some idiot American college kid — his bangs forced sharply upward at the hairline while everything else was slicked down.

Frowning at his reflection, Iwaizumi glanced at his watch and exhaled heavily. It was eleven, and he was out of time for this nonsense. With one last scowl at the mirror, he stuffed his wallet in his pocket and strode out the door. As Oikawa's house was on the route to the train station, he had to take a detour to avoid being mocked by his obnoxious best friend. Who might have been under the impression that Iwaizumi was not home and visiting family in the next prefecture over for the day. He thanked his lucky stars for his younger sister, Kou (who was developing into a terrifyingly good liar), for that little fabrication.

Once he reached the station and boarded the train to downtown Karasuno, the familiar clatter of the rails gave him some piece of mind. Everything else about this day felt weird and foreign, but every train felt the same, no matter where it was heading. Even ones that were delivering him to certain doom.

True to form, once he stepped onto the Karasuno platform, Iwaizumi battled the urge to run back into the train compartment and forget the whole thing. Never in a million years would he have pegged himself such a coward, but he would take a dozen Ushijima Wakatoshis over the sticky knot of trepidation doing somersaults in his gut. Only a putz would show up to a lunch, which had been clearly defined as a non-date, with this ridiculous hairstyle and in clothes his mother had chosen. Or Oikawa. He wasn't sure which was worse.

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, Iwaizumi reached into his pocket to pull out his phone so he could get directions to the restaurant. His heart pounded three times like a fist on a door before it skipped a beat. He forgot his phone. Hissing an expletive that made the middle-aged lady walking by him gasp, he considered jumping back on the train once again.

"Oh, for crying out loud!" he shouted at himself as he smacked his own cheeks with both hands. He was Iwaizumi Hajime. He was _the_ ace on a volleyball team full of players who could be an ace on any other team. He has baby-sat the biggest pain in the ass in Oikawa since colonoscopies were invented. He was in Class 5 and had excellent grades. He could do all of these things, and he could damn well find a restaurant and have lunch with a pretty girl without being a puling mess.

Or at least he thought so, until a hand closed on his shoulder. He jumped what felt like three feet in the air.

"Iwaizumi-san?"

When Iwaizumi turned to see who had accosted him, he saw someone who was likely around his own age with the kind of face that looked familiar whether one knew that person or not. The boy had heavy-lidded eyes, which gave him a dreamy look, and plain brown hair. Iwaizumi was sure he had seen this guy before. Tentatively, he said, "Yeah?"

The boy bowed slightly. "Sorry to bother you. My name is Ennoshita Chikara. You probably don't remember me, but I play for Karasuno."

Vague recognition materialized into an average level player in a scrimmage jersey from the practice match between Seijou and Karasuno. Number three, Iwaizumi thought. This day was feeling more and more like a bad idea. "Ennoshita-san," he acknowledged. "What can I do for you?"

Ennoshita colored. "Oh, nothing. Normally, I wouldn't bother you, but I noticed you looked kind of lost. Did you need help finding something?"

Iwaizumi hesitated, despite Ennoshita's calm, earnest face. He had no idea how much this guy and Shimizu talked, and if he would put two and two together if Shimizu happened to mention where she had lunch that day. The thought of the Karasuno team starting a witch hunt for him for daring to broach their manager did not remotely appeal.

However, the idea of shaming himself by being late was equally distasteful. Forcing what he hoped was a smile and not a grimace, Iwaizumi said, "Maybe. I'm meeting a friend for lunch at Shenzan, but I seem to have forgotten my phone and don't know how to get there."

An easy smile spread on Ennoshita's face, making Iwaizumi feel less and less like enlisting his assistance was a terrible idea. "Oh, just follow that street —" he pointed towards the largest road leading from the station, "— for two blocks, turn right for two more blocks, and it's on the right side of the street."

Sighing in relief that those were directions he surely wouldn't forget, he bowed to Ennoshita. "Thank you."

With a slight nod, Ennoshita replied, "Any time. Have a good lunch." He gave a little wave and approached the nearest train platform, where he was promptly scooped into a bone-crushing hug by a tiny old lady (presumably his grandmother). Iwaizumi chuckled and headed off in the direction Ennoshita had indicated. The clock at the train station told him that he had twenty minutes, so he had plenty of time.

Thanks to Ennoshita's idiot-proof directions, Iwaizumi arrived five minutes early (which he knew from the fortuitously placed clock store two doors down) to a bright, buzzing restaurant that already made Iwaizumi feel like the very worst thing that could happen was that he had a good meal. The clientele seemed to be smiling over their food, and he could smell tofu frying as soon as he opened the door. His mouth started watering as he took an appreciative sniff of the air.

The hostess smiled and bowed. "Welcome to Shenzan. Do you have a reservation with us today?"

Iwaizumi blinked. "Um . . . do I need one? I've never been here before, but I'm meeting a friend."

"Without a reservation, there will be about a twenty minute wait on a table. Perhaps your friend made a reservation. Name?"

"Shimizu," came a lilting voice from behind Iwaizumi, the owner of which he recognized immediately. "Table for two."

Wheeling around, Iwaizumi felt his cheeks flame as he bowed to Shimizu, who was wearing a sweet-looking lilac dress with black tights and a fitted black trenchcoat. He gulped. "Nice to see you again, Shimizu-san. My apologies for not making a reservation."

She merely waved her hand as the hostess led them to their table. They sat alongside the front window of the restaurant, with a pleasant peal of sunlight washing over their table. A server immediately brought them steaming cups of green tea, which was much appreciated after the rather cold trek. They both ordered right away (the same thing, to Iwaizumi's petty satisfaction).

After a minute of comfortable silence, Shimizu said, "I realized after we set the time that this place isn't always walk-in friendly, so I set a reservation myself to make sure we got a table." Her cheeks pinkened. "You know, in case you had other plans for your afternoon."

Her shy smile made Iwaizumi's blood tingle merrily. "Just pretending to study for a physics final while listening to Oikawa gloat about the amount of chocolates and confessions he got on Valentine's Day."

Shimizu chuckled into her hand. "He seems like the type, though he is very sweet when he wants to be. He always has a nice word for his teammates during games."

Iwaizumi scowled reflexively before willing his features into at least a neutral expression. "Y-you know Oikawa?"

Ducking her head, Shimizu replied, "Not really. I've just seen him around tournaments the past few years. He seems to have quite a following."

"That's because they don't get to see his shitty personality," Iwaizumi grumbled. It was only when Shimizu giggled that his eyes widened. "Forgive my language. I've spent so much time in a locker room the past six months that I sometimes I forget I'm not surrounded by sweaty morons."

Shimizu nodded. "I know what you mean. I think the one I found the most surprising was when Suga-kun was walking and talking and ran into the net post. I've never heard —" She covered her mouth with her hand and winced. "My apologies, Iwaizumi-san. I doubt you want to hear about them right now."

It took Iwaizumi a moment to comprehend Shimizu's discomfort. His reflex was to agree not to talk about either of their teams, but when he considered it, the thought hadn't crossed his mind until she had mentioned the taboo. He had actually been looking forward to hearing the story about Mr. Refreshing's (he was pretty sure that's who she was referring to) bout of profanity. And, in all fairness, he had started their trip down this road by mentioning Oikawa. His team's loss to hers still stung; however, he had made his peace with losing to Karasuno and had no reason to bear the team ill will. That's how sports worked, and someone had to lose.

Iwaizumi realized that he had been silent for a good while and was nervous that Shimizu would take it as confirmation. "No . . ." he started. "It's okay. I'm all right with it. You have a good group of guys, just like I do. We don't have to stop talking about volleyball unless you really want to." By the time he finished speaking, he felt good about what he'd said. He _was_ okay.

"You have a good attitude, Iwaizumi-san. I should have known by the way you deal with your team. You're very honorable."

Not bothering to hide his deep flush, Iwaizumi's mouth crept into a lopsided smile. _God, I'm a pathetic jackass._ "As are you, Shimizu-san."

He felt marginally better when he noticed that they were both a particularly violent shade of red. After a decade of Oikawa's ambiguous brand of compliments (which sometimes were merely insults in disguise), earnest praise from someone as earthy as Shimizu left him at a loss as to how he should react. Selfishly, he hoped she didn't stop.

Some of the crimson leeched out of her cheeks until her cheeks were a very nice shade of pink. "I . . . I was thinking. Since we are familiar with each other and the same age, you can just call me Shimizu. Or — or Kiyoko, if you like."

Sweat beaded along Iwaizumi's hairline, and for one crazy second, he worried that it would melt his hairstyle before he remembered that it was absurd anyway. "I would like that, Kiyoko-kun." Her name felt at home on his tongue. He would be hard-pressed not to chant it to himself on the way home. "No one really calls me Hajime but my mom and dad. My sister calls me Haji, much to my annoyance. Most everyone else calls me Iwaizumi." He was babbling, he knew. The stream of stupid words wouldn't stop, no matter how hard he tried. He was about to give up the effort entirely. However, he had to reiterate one thing. "Please, whatever you do, just don't call me Iwa-chan."

Shimizu laughed. It wasn't like her previous bouts of amusement; it was sweet and clear, like song. He wanted to mentally berate himself for even having that thought, but his resolve melted like butter. A sigh escaped before he could stop himself.

_Play it cool, Hajime. Maybe she doesn't think you're completely lame._

"Hajime is a nice name. It suits you. Iwaizumi is sharper, but you're not as thorny as you come across sometimes."

Iwaizumi had been red before; now his skin was so hot with embarrassment that he was sure it would melt off right on the table. Fortunately for his dignity, the food arrived. After a quick thanks, he plowed into his as quickly as good manners would allow. He regretted skipping breakfast, but a glance at Shimizu showed that she was consuming her lunch at a similarly rapid pace. They talked very little, only pausing to comment on the quality of the food. It wasn't until they had both cleaned their plates and were once again sipping on tea that any meaningful conversation took place.

"So, is this someplace you think your grandmother would like to come?" Shimizu asked.

Blinking, he stammered, "I, um . . . yeah. At least enough to get me through college." Realizing how gauche that sounded, he forced a chuckle.

Shimizu quirked a brow. "You didn't get a scholarship to play anywhere? That's surprising, because you are really good."

"I got a couple of offers," Iwaizumi admitted, "but nowhere that has the kind of program I'm looking for. That leaves me groveling at my grandmother's feet so I don't end up in debt my whole life."

"What are you looking to get into?"

He couldn't help but puff his chest with pride. "I want to be a sports therapist. After years of dealing with Oikawa abusing his body just to maybe compete with Ushiwaka and even Kageyama, I have a patience for it. I know I can't play forever, but it will keep me in the game."

"It's good that you want to give back. I know I get back a lot from being in the volleyball club, and I don't even play. It's a good outlet for people like me who aren't the best at being social."

Iwaizumi's brows shot up. "You seem perfectly social to me."

Shimizu's glance slid down to the table. "I have anxiety, so I'm always so nervous about how people react to me. That's why I was so happy to find Yacchan to take over for the team. She's easy to talk to because she's a lot like me. You're good to talk to because I know what I'm getting. There isn't anything deceptive about how you treat people."

Words failed him. He could honestly not think of a time when he had received a nicer compliment. His whole face reddened once again, but he didn't care. She genuinely liked him, and even if she saw through his stupid plot to get her to see him, she didn't appear to mind. "I — I don't know what to say."

A smile tugged at her lips as she drank the last of her tea.

They discussed menial things for a while afterwards, from school to an accurate count of how many hair products Oikawa actually owned. Every word made Iwaizumi want to see her every day, and each time her name rolled off his tongue, he felt a soft assurance that he might actually get the chance.

He paid, trying not to cringe at spending 3000 yen on lunch, and held out his arm to escort Shimizu out the door. They sat on a bench under a nearby tree. Though the day was chilly, the wind was negligible and the air smelled cleaner on this side of town. He wouldn't mind the walk back to the train station at all.

Iwaizumi was far too proud for not flinching when Shimizu broke the silence with his given name. "Hajime, I meant to tell you earlier, but you look very nice today."

"Thank you. I don't really get out much besides practice, so I wasn't really sure how to dress for lunch with —" Unsure how to end that sentence inoffensively or presumptuously, Iwaizumi elected to stop talking and let her make of it what she pleased. Her slight blush underneath the ruddy kiss of cold on her cheeks give him hope he hadn't dared before today. It willed something brave inside him to life. Slowly but surely, he inched his hand towards hers until he brushed against her pinky. Shen she extended her fingers to reach his, he slid his hand over hers as both rested on her thigh. His heart thudded in his chest, like a hundred spikes buffeting a gym floor, the echo resounding in his ears.

She liked him. She actually liked him.

They sat there like that for a while, neither speaking, until a hunched old man gave them a scathing look and prompted them to vacate the bench. Iwaizumi knew he should return home before his prolonged absence caused his mother to question him even more than his choice of wardrobe did. "I — I should head out. I had a really nice time."

"So did I," she replied with that soft, low-key smile that he now associated with genuine warmth. "At first, I wasn't sure if you were, you know . . ." At his questioning look, she blushed and shook her head. "Never mind."

Hoping this is where the conversation was going, Iwaizumi said, "I would like to see you again."

"Of course," she agreed, seemingly relieved that she didn't have to finish her previous thought. "Let me know what you have available, and I'll see what I have going on."

With a wide grin, Iwaizumi bowed and took her hand in his once again. Feeling emboldened by their shared desire to meet again, he brushed a kiss to her knuckles before bowing even deeper. "It would be my pleasure, Kiyoko."

As she bowed slightly in return, she waved and walked away, leaving Iwaizumi taking slow steps backwards until he slammed the back of his head directly into a lamp post.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awkard!Iwa-chan gives me life.


	3. Chapter 3

"Iwa-chan, is there something you need to tell me?"

Rubbing his eyes to scrub remnants of the incomprehensible English participles swirling in his brain, Iwaizumi looked over at Oikawa blankly. The other boy was rooting around in his closet, for reasons beyond his study-addled brain, holding up the shirt Iwaizumi had worn to lunch with Shimizu. He was waving it around as if his lunacy spoke for itself. "Did calculus finally break you, Oikawa?"

Feigning offense, Oikawa threw the shirt at Iwaizumi. "First of all, why didn't you tell me you actually owned something halfway decent? And while you're at it, tell me why this doesn't smell like you."

Iwaizumi massaged his temples with his forefingers. "I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer. Dare I even ask why you're sniffing my clothes like a psychopath?"

"I was looking for something to wear to bed, since my brain already went to sleep hours ago. What  _I_ want to know, Iwa-chan, is why you own a purple shirt of sex." Oikawa crossed his arms as he tapped his toe expectantly.

Looking over the garment in question, Iwaizumi couldn't see what Oikawa was so bent out of shape about. He sighed. "Oikawa, you know I have no idea what that means, but you can unbunch your panties because my mom bought it for me a year ago. It probably smells like mothballs, and the first time I wore it was Sunday when I was, um, out."

Oikawa gaped at him until his face twisted into outrage. "You lied to me! You actually lied to me, and I  _believed_  you. You weren't in Kanagawa; you were on a date, you liar, liar, LIAR!"

"And what if I was?  _Please_  tell me how it's a big deal - or any of your business, for that matter." Iwaizumi dropped the shirt onto his dirty clothes pile and raised a brow. "Enlighten me, Shittykawa. I can't wait to hear this."

If Oikawa's mouth opened and closed any more, he would be a fish. Iwaizumi took petty delight in his friend's speechlessness, as it was a rare enough occurrence. Besides, he had a good idea of how Oikawa would react to the knowledge that he had been out with Shimizu, so he hoped he might stymie the other boy, instead.

He should've known Oikawa was too perceptive for that. He really should have known.

Eyes narrowing, Oikawa hissed, "It was  _her_ , wasn't it. The Karasuno girl."

"YES, all right?" Iwaizumi blurted, voice raised to match Oikawa borderline shriek of indignation. "We had lunch, and she is really nice. Not like you right now, Asskawa."

An oily smile crawled across Oikawa's face, and the sight of it made Iwaizumi's skin crawl. This was the look he reserved for the likes of Kageyama and Ushijima, or when he wanted something really badly. "Don't give me that look, Oikawa. And I swear to every deity known to man, if you screw this up for me, I will end you. Your tombstone will say, 'Here Lies Oikawa Tooru: Crappy Friend, Idiot, Cockblock.' Don't even think I'm joking." Well, he was. Maybe. A little bit. Not really. He would probably, most definitely maim Oikawa beyond recognition if he meddled in things with Shimizu. At the very least, Iwaizumi would pull Oikawa's precious hair out strand by strand.

"Violent, devious, liar Iwa-chan!" Oikawa's face pulled into a pout that Iwaizumi thought might actually have been genuine. "Can you really forget that easily? Everything we worked for was ruined."

"Oikawa . . ." Iwaizumi covered his face with his hands and growled into his palms in frustration. With a heavy sigh, he continued, "Tooru, you know that isn't it. I hated losing. Absolutely hated it. I hated it for the guys, I hated it for me, and I hated it for you the most. But you can't just decide that this is about you. Kiyoko is a nice girl I like, who might actually like me back for reasons I can't even begin to understand.

"Do you know how many confessions I got this Valentine's Day?  _None._  You got over a dozen. I can't spend every minute with you, and I don't think either of us want that. I wanted to spend time with her because I thought she was interesting. I don't get what is so wrong about that."

Oikawa sat on Iwaizumi's bed and hugged his knees. "I know, Iwa-chan. I just need to get used to . . . you know."

This conversation had wearied Iwaizumi to the point where he didn't even bother deciphering Oikawa's pitiful words. "If you're worried about me not being around, don't be ridiculous. She lives almost on the other side of the prefecture. The most I could see her is once a week, and that's providing I have the cash to take the train to see her. You live next door. I know you're not bad at math, so figure it out."

"That's not . . . just forget it." Oikawa's voice was quiet and uneven, and it made Iwaizumi uneasy. "I promise I won't ruin it for you."

Iwaizumi knew Oikawa meant something entirely different, but he could shatter his brain trying to decipher the way his best friend's mind worked. Deciding that a truce was sufficient, he said softly, "Thank you."

He tried for a half hour to get back into studying, but he decided enough was enough when he could no longer remember what the English letters were called, let alone what they said. Oikawa had been right in the first place; it was definitely time for bed. However, when he looked over to where Oikawa had been sitting, he saw that a certain someone had already fallen asleep (still in his clothes, Iwaizumi thought ironically).

Grumbling that Oikawa was taking up most of the bed, Iwaizumi clambered over him and tucked both of them under the covers. His back was cold from being jammed against the wall, and Oikawa was splayed out, removing any chance Iwaizumi had of stretching out comfortably. Well, at least one of them would get some rest.

After hours of drifting in and out of consciousness, and the heaviness of his earlier conversation with Oikawa lingering in his mind and keeping him awake, Iwaizumi finally managed to fall asleep. He even had a dream or two about jet black hair, tinkling laughs, and pinkened cheeks.

* * *

Iwaizumi found himself clinging to his phone more than normal, hoping that Shimizu would text him and alleviate his crippling fear that he had imagined her interest in him. Every dumb teenager movie he had ever seen told him that was how it worked. But Shimizu was unlike anyone he had known, so he figured his expectations were already aimed in the wrong direction.

With a huff, he mumbled, "Screw it," and sent the most innocuous text he could think of.

_How are you?_

It had been a day and a half. Not too soon or late, he thought. He decided didn't want to seem desperate or needy, or make her uncomfortable.

When his phone rang almost immediately after — not a text alert, but a proper ringing — he snapped it up and answered, "H-hi!"

Iwaizumi cringed at the giddiness in his voice, but that embarrassment paled in comparison to what he felt when the voice on the other end replied, "Who are you, and what did you do with Iwa-chan?"

"Oikawa," Iwaizumi growled, all traces of his prior excitement erased, save for the florid red clinging to his cheeks. "What do you want?"

"You know, we really need to work on your people skills," Oikawa sing-songed. "For instance, when your best friend in the whole world calls you, it's customary to say something like, 'Hey, Tooru-chan, I was just thinking about you. I'm glad you called!' and not act like I kicked your dog."

"I don't have a dog, Oikawa."

"You're hopeless, Iwa-chan. How are you supposed to sweep Kiyoko-chan off her feet when you can't even decipher a simple figure of speech?"

Groaning, Iwaizumi said, "I don't need to sweep her off her feet. And you will stay out of it, if you know what's good for you." Oikawa chuckled, and Iwaizumi felt a chill go down his spine. "You're planning something, aren't you?"

"Not at all."

"You're the worst," Iwaizumi grumbled as he willed the headache blooming at the back of his skull to go away. "Is there a reason why you're calling, or should I just assume that you're going to spend the rest of the school year harassing me like a hobby?"

"Of  _course_  not, Iwa-chan."

"Goodbye, Oikawa." Ignoring Oikawa's repeated sputtering to hold on, he ended the call and decided to wait for Oikawa to text whatever it was he had called about. In the meantime, he decided to occupy himself with laundry and dinner — definitely  _not_  waiting for Shimizu to text him back. He most certainly did not drop a plate when he heard his text notification.

_It's been busy here. The first match of nationals is tomorrow._

Iwaizumi felt something drop in his gut. He figured he had a good idea what Oikawa had tried to talk to him about, as well. In the past couple of weeks, he had second-guessed himself, laughed at great memories with his teammates, cried a few times with Oikawa as well as alone. He had even considered this inevitable outcome, knowing that Shimizu would be going to this match and he would not, how it made him feel.

What surprised Iwaizumi was that he actually wanted to see it. For all his assertion that their last match against Karasuno would be sufficient motivation to not lay eyes on any of them again, he instead found himself not only nursing an almost embarrassing crush on the team's manager but also wanting to watch the team that finally defeated Ushijima Wakatoshi and taught the guy some much-needed humility.

Instead of replying to Shimizu, he found himself Googling ticket availability to attend the Nationals tournament — which to his pleasant surprise was free to registered high school players, competing or not — and how much a train ticket would cost for a trip to Tokyo. He had an aunt who lived in the city who constantly lamented his parents' lack of visiting, so he reckoned she would have him for a couple of nights. The ticket price wouldn't be too much of a blow to his savings if he skipped eating out of vending machines at school and took a bento for lunch for the rest of the year.

The more he considered it, the more the idea had Iwaizumi's blood buzzing in excitement. After weeks of largely ignoring volleyball, the idea of seeing top-flight teams slug it out sent a thrill through his blood. A lingering smile clinging to his mouth, he texted Shimizu.

_I was actually thinking about going, if you don't mind. And I really do hope Karasuno does well. Can't let the ones who beat my boys be anything less than the best._

After he sent the message, Iwaizumi hoped it didn't seem creepy or stalkerish that he was willing to travel all the way to Tokyo to watch a team that wasn't his because the girl he liked was going to be there.

Her answer was even more than he had hoped.

_Yacchan and I are traveling with Saeko-san in her van. There's room for one more if you don't mind being surrounded by us girls. It might cost you your other setter's phone number, though. Yacchan can't stop talking about him._

Iwaizumi never thought he would be so giddy to text Yahaba in his life.

_Hey, it's Iwaizumi. I've been informed that Manager-chan (Yachi) from Karasuno might like your number._

He took the reply, which was full of bubbly emoji and what he could only assume was keysmashing, as an affirmative and promptly forwarded Yahaba's contact information to Shimizu. He laughed when he received her answer.

_Yacchan told me to thank Scary Ace-san for her. I've tried to tell her you're really not all that scary, but you being almost 30cm taller than her might have something to do with it._

Maybe it was the fact that he was one of the shortest players on the Seijou team, or that the only people he was consistently thirty centimeters taller than were ten-year-olds, but Iwaizumi decided right then that Manager-chan would not be afraid of him by the time the road trip was over. How, he had absolutely no idea, but at least he would have one ally.

And a ticket to Karasuno was a hell of a lot cheaper than one to Tokyo.

The rest of his evening was spent in a flurry of texts and phone calls and frantic packing. A mere twelve hours later, he was on his way to Karasuno for the second time in three days, only informing Oikawa of his departure when he was well on his way. That was one mess he was more than willing to put off cleaning up until later.

This time, when Iwaizumi arrived at the Karasuno train stop, instead of an awkward encounter with one of the Karasuno players, the welcoming committee was far more attractive. Alongside the spritely Yachi was a girl that looked around twenty-one, very busty, and bore a disturbing resemblance to the skinhead wing spiker. He hoped she either had no idea who he was or that her personality bore no resemblance to her younger brother's.

"Hajime-kuuuuuun!" Saeko (as Shimizu had called her) bellowed while standing next to a van that looked like it was one pothole away from losing a wheel. Iwaizumi gulped before approaching the group of girls. He bowed to them and was greeted with smiles all around. Turning to Saeko, he bowed once again. "Thank you, Saeko-san, for allowing my intrusion."

Saeko laughed loudly before slapping him on the shoulder. Iwaizumi immediately knew that Skinhead-kun's strength of swing was definitely genetic the moment the flesh over his clavicle began to burn. "Call me Nee-san! If you're with Kiyoko-chan, then you're with all of us."

Shimizu's cheeks pinkened, and Iwaizumi felt his face flame. In his excitement to spend time with Shimizu, he had not considered how many of the Karasuno players knew about their budding relationship, nor how they would react when they found out. "Th-thank you, Nee-san," he finally answered, feeling like his will to move was shrinking as he stepped closer to the van.

Soon, they were underway, with Yachi sitting in the front and Shimizu and Iwaizumi sitting in the back. They did not get more than a mile before Iwaizumi deeply regretted not springing for a train ticket. It was a toss-up between Saeko taking corners at breakneck speed and turning around every few minutes or so to ask questions, taking her eyes off the road. Teeth clenched, he found himself gripping the edge of the seat for dear life.

Iwaizumi nearly jumped out of his skin when a warm hand slid over his. His head jerked to the side just in time to catch Shimizu's shy smile and nod of encouragement, and his belly flopped like a fish when her hand stayed where it was. "It gets better," she whispered, leaning in until her lips were nearly brushing his ear.

A flare of heat exploded in his lap, and he desperately hoped he wasn't about to embarrass himself as he filed that little piece of information under things he hadn't known about himself. He forced a smile, hoping it didn't make him look constipated, and turned his hand over to lace his fingers with hers.

"Oooohhhhh!" Saeko cried as she gave them a thumbs-up and a wink. "Are you two gonna behave back there?"

Though he knew Saeko meant well, Iwaizumi felt a bolt of irritation when he saw Shimizu shrink back in her seat at the comment and slide her hand back into her side. "Yes, Nee-san," he said through clenched teeth.

There was an awkward silence in the van for nearly an hour, the only sound being the radio playing at an uncomfortably high volume, until they were almost out of the prefecture. Iwaizumi cast frequent glances towards Shimizu until he was sure she had regained at least a modicum of comfort. It was when she smiled as a song came on the radio that he dared to break the conversation deadlock. "You like this song?"

Shimizu nodded as she hummed along to the chorus. His breath caught as her lips curved into a soft smile that he might have missed if he weren't looking at her so intently. When she was truly engrossed, she was more beautiful than he had ever seen her. He didn't even know when he stopped breathing entirely until his vision began to grow fuzzy.

The song ended soon after, but Shimizu's improved mood lingered, giving Iwaizumi the courage to help the conversation in the van resume. "So, Nee-san, did you go to Karasuno, as well?"

Saeko babbled for a solid five minutes about her high school experience. Iwaizumi listened, but absorbed little of what was said as he inched his hand across the seat towards Shimizu's until he could brush his thumb across the side of her palm. His efforts were rewarded by a gasp and reddened cheeks; he smirked in triumph when she snaked her pinky out to hook with his own fingers.

When Saeko finished talking, Iwaizumi again played the solicitous guest. "What about you, Yachi-kun? How did you choose the volleyball club?"

Yachi jumped in her seat when addressed. Iwaizumi hoped it was because she had been deep in some other thought and not because she still found him scary. Regardless, she answered him. "They actually chose me. Shimizu-san asked Sho-chan for other first years who weren't in clubs, and I was one of them. She approached me and made me feel welcome. Then the boys needed tutoring, and then I felt like if I could teach contemporary lit to Kageyama-kun, I could do anything."

Iwaizumi laughed at the mental picture of this tiny thing trying to teach grouchy, non-personable Kageyama the ins and outs of literature. Tears formed in his eyes the moment he threw Shrimpy-kun into the equation. "If you can deal with those two, then you'll be all right. Just look out for idiot setters trying to get your attention, and you'll be an expert in no time."

He was surprised when Yachi's head whipped around to look back at him, a grin plastered to her face. "You think so?"

Nodding, Iwaizumi said truthfully, "Of course. Volleyball is not just about ability. It's about drive and determination. It's not just being tall and strong."

"But  _you're_  tall and strong!" Yachi cried before reddening. "So is Yahaba-kun."

Iwaizumi shook his head. "It's not that easy. Karasuno only has three players taller than me, but on my team, all but two players are taller than I am. But that didn't determine the results of the match." He very much disliked where this conversation was going, and he scoured his brain for ways to change the subject without appearing abrupt or rude.

Shimizu must have sensed his discomfort. "Hajime . . ." He blinked at her use of his name as she continued. "That's right, Yacchan. Just like Hinata-kun's Small Giant."

From there, Saeko recounted her knowledge of this Small Giant, who Iwaizumi thought that he might've heard of before, and their time together at school. His attention quickly waned on the subject and drifted back to Shimizu. "Thanks."

Soon, they were crossing into the Tokyo prefecture, and as the looming towers and cloud of smog came into view, Iwaizumi felt very, very small. He had traveled to the city a few times to visit his aunt, but it had been nearly five years since the last visit and the implications were larger for him.

It was unlikely that the Karasuno players would fail to notice his presence, either by seeing him or being told he was there by any one of their carpool party. Also, it would be the first time anyone would see him with Shimizu. While he doubted Karasuno's third years would pay it much mind, Iwaizumi didn't want to cause trouble for her with the junior members of the club or stir up any drama before a vital match.

As the van bobbed and weaved through the bustling city traffic, Iwaizumi felt a familiar tingle in his belly. It was the same sensation that he got before every match he'd ever played. Whether it was because he was about to watch a great match, or if his subconscious was more afraid to 'out' his relationship with Shimizu than he cared to admit, he wasn't sure. Regardless, he could tell by the clenched teeth of his riding mates that he was not the only one.

Deciding they all needed a change in mood, Iwaizumi asked no one in particular, "Just wondering, but why aren't you girls riding the team bus?"

To his surprise, it was Yachi who piped in. "If the boys win, the whole team will be staying the night in the city. Some parents came along to chaperone, so there wasn't enough room for all of us. Nee-san offered to drive us, since she wanted to cheer on her brother."

Iwaizumi's brow wrinkled in confusion. "Your bus can't fit twenty people?"

Shimizu shook her head. "Our vice-principal hates the volleyball team, so our funding is pretty low. They'll pay for jerseys and volleyballs, but we pay our travel funds ourselves."

Blinking in astonishment, Iwaizumi could not help the rush of respect and admiration for his rival team for doing as well as they have despite the odds against them, both on and off the court. Aoba Jousai was a rich school in a wealthy neighborhood—one he could not have even considered without the volleyball scholarship he had received. The idea of not having money to travel to practice matches was preposterous.

"You wanna see the fundraiser posters I made to help make money for the team?" Yachi cried, already pulling her tablet out of her bag. After a few seconds of searching, she held out the tablet to him. "Touch the right side of the screen to move to the next image. There are four of them total."

The first one was one of Shrimpy-kun, soaring through the air, dubbing him the new Small Giant. The second was a group photo of the team's third years, with a heading saying 'going out with a bang. The third was a group huddle from above, with all the players standing in order by number. The final was —

"Wow," Iwaizumi choked as he replayed a scene in his head he had desperately tried to block out for weeks. The members of Karasuno flinging themselves into a shouting pile of elation while Aoba Jousai sank to the court, teary-eyed and dejected. Defeated. "I think you actually managed to find a bad picture of Oikawa."

And it was. There was a glimpse of the Seijou captain, mouth agape as his face was contorted with hurt and confusion. Iwaizumi's chest tightened at the sight, because no one knew how the weight of loss pressed down on Oikawa.

A hand glided over his and took the tablet. Shimizu handed the tablet back to Yachi, and Iwaizumi had to suppress a sigh of relief. "They're, um, really nice, Yachi-kun. I like the one with the third years a lot. It reminds me that the guys I play with are also my best friends."

Shimizu gave him a toothy smile, and Iwaizumi's heart stuttered in response. It wasn't that magnetic, million watt smile that Oikawa had that he could flash at a moment's notice; it was soft, genuine, and just  _cute_. Almost enough to make him forget the night he cried himself to sleep over losing that match. Or how it took Oikawa approximately five hours to lose his composure after putting on a brave face.

"Sugawara hates that picture," Shimizu commented, drawing Iwaizumi off that dangerous track of thinking. "He thinks it makes his thighs look fat and his hair gray."

Iwaizumi guffawed. Sugawara was easily ten kilos, possibly fifteen, lighter than himself, despite the two of them being relatively close in height. There couldn't possibly be enough extra weight to make anything of his look fat. Judging by the chuckle Shimizu tried to hide with her hand over her mouth, Iwaizumi figured she agreed.

"Sawamura doesn't seem to mind," Saeko chimed.

It took about ten seconds for Iwaizumi's brain to process what Saeko had said. "Sawamura and Sugawara are, um, together?" All three girls laughed at a joke Iwaizumi felt like he missed. "What?"

Saeko shook her head. "Everyone knows it but them. Boys are so dumb."

 _Yeah, we are_ , Iwaizumi's traitorous brain agreed. He knew he was dumb around Shimizu, and he was fairly certain the only reason she tolerated him was because she knew he was as dumb as these girls assumed his gender to be but forgave him for it in a fit of magnanimity.

As if she sensed his thoughts once again, Shimizu took his hand in hers. Both of them turned red. Fortunately, Saeko was too busy with navigating city traffic to spot it and ruin the little moment again. Yachi was craning her neck, taking in the sights of the towering urban sprawl. Feeling emboldened by their relative privacy, Iwaizumi stroked Shimizu's palm with his work-roughened thumb, enjoying the sight of her eyes shooting open in surprise.

He could get used to this.

In all his teenage years, Iwaizumi had never had a girlfriend. It wasn't necessarily due to lack of interest; his mere association with Oikawa was enough to garner him at least a few token confessions. He just never had the time. Between volleyball and academics and keeping Oikawa from working himself into the ground, there was precious little room for anything else. After a while and several rejected confessions, girls either started thinking he was gay or unapproachable and simply stopped asking. His family was not remotely wealthy, so he took advantage of his sports scholarship to both Kitagawa Daiichi and Aoba Jousai to make academic strides, as well as working his ass off to make sure volleyball kept him there. Dating was frivolous; he could do that in college.

But volleyball was over for him, and high school was not far behind. And Shimizu was really, really stunning.

Iwaizumi felt the van slowing, and when he looked out the windshield, he saw a gigantic sports complex. This was it — the Orange Court. This is the place where all of his blood, sweat, and tears over the past few years had been working towards. His previous euphoria drained away, and he reflexively squeezed Shimizu's hand. She squeezed his back, and he knew she was aware of his struggle. He was so glad she was there. Had he taken the train alone, he might have taken one look at the place and turned around and gone home without even entering the building.

They maneuvered into a parking garage, dodging swarms of players wearing team jackets he had never seen before. Every color he could think of swam in front of them at some point. Well, no turquoise. He felt a sharp pang of regret that he had never been as good as Oikawa, that he could not lead his team to victory over Shiratorizawa, but that was moot now. Instead, their kouhai had done that and would be sweeping onto the Orange Court with his bubbly orange decoy and freak quick strike and absurd potential.

Finally, Saeko was able to find an empty space, and they took their bags and headed towards the elevators. The players level was the first stop, and Iwaizumi realized that he would be parting ways with Shimizu sooner than he would have liked. Both he and Saeko stepped out with Shimizu and Yachi, and while Saeko asked random passers-by if they knew where the room assignment directory was, he gave Yachi a pat on the shoulder. She beamed up at him, and Iwaizumi mentally ticked 'make Manager-chan not afraid of him' off his to-do list for this trip.

Shimizu's eyes locked with his, and Iwaizumi knew that this was the right time. He had thought about it since their lunch, and he had told himself that he would work up the courage to do it by the time this trip was through. The rest of their surroundings melted away, and with little regard for who was watching, Iwaizumi softly gripped her shoulders and lowered his mouth to hers and brushed a gentle, closed-mouth kiss.

When he recovered his ability to breathe, his mouth still hovering close to hers, he murmured, "Go kick it in the ass."

Her lips tugged into a soft smile, accompanied by blistering red cheeks, and she replied, "We will."

Iwaizumi, knowing he was blushing more than any one person should be allowed, smiled broadly and slid his hands from Shimizu's shoulders, down her arms, until he took her hands in his. Suddenly unable to look her in the eye, he instead directed his gaze to a spot over her shoulder.

The entire Karasuno team was pouring out of the elevator, and half of them stared at Iwaizumi and Shimizu, mouths agape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did it. I had Oikawa call him out on the Purple Shirt of Sex. Hajime may also be meeting his maker soon. Here's hoping Nee-san will save him from her brother and partner in crime.


	4. Chapter 4

"Ah, crap," Iwaizumi vaguely heard Saeko say over the sound of his heart pounding.

Eight Karasuno players stood before him, nearly all of whom were staring at him with expressions varying from shock to incredulity. Kageyama was blinking stupidly, along with Shorty. He couldn't decipher the absurd look on their libero's face, but if he had to hazard a guess, he would call it betrayal. Megane-kun sighed and walked past his gawking teammates, followed by the muss-haired boy with the wicked jump float serve.

The only relief from the intense scrutiny was Ennoshita, who he remembered from the train station. Ennoshita's eyes widened before his face settled into a sleepy smile. "Iwaizumi-san. Nice to see you again. I guess i know who you had lunch with." The other boy chuckled as he strode forward and offered a handshake. "Any chance you're rooting for us today?"

Taking Ennoshita's peace offering, Iwaizumi nodded. "After beating us, you better win the whole damn thing."

Ennoshita chuckled. "That's the plan. Dai-san said if we have any shorter goal than that, we should just go home right now."

Throughout this conversation, Iwaizumi tried to ignore Tanaka staring daggers at him, but the longer it went on, the more comically tragic the second year looked. Shimizu was covering her face in embarrassment. He couldn't hold back a laugh. He clapped Ennoshita on the shoulder before coming to stand before the scowling Tanaka and the libero (he added learning that name to his to-do list for the day). He crossed his arms and sighed. "Whatever you want to say, out with it. You're making Shimizu-san uncomfortable."

Both of them gaped at Iwaizumi, caught off guard by his directness. It was the libero who eventually responded. "Are you Kiyoko-san's boyfriend?"

A pair of kicked puppies looked at him with wide eyes, which would have been hilarious if he wasn't nearly shaking with nerves because he honestly did not know the answer to that question. Instead, he leaned towards them and said conspiratorially, "I believe that is up to Shimizu-san. I am at her mercy."

Both of their eyes widened, and the libero nodded in apparent understanding. "Aren't we all?" Tanaka agreed, eyes closed while he clutched at his chest dramatically.

Iwaizumi wanted to laugh but was sure it would sound less like amusement and more like hysteria if he did, and since that sounded like the least likely way to escape this situation unscathed, he mustered a sigh - the kind he reserved for Oikawa skipping class to practice serving. At the sound, the two players in front of him shared a look before turning to him with twin grins. "Please tell us what it's like so we can both die happy," the libero said, with Tanaka nodding emphatically.

"Deal," Iwaizumi answered with a guffaw. For complete idiots, these two were all right. He offered a short bow. "Iwaizumi Hajime, by the way."

The libero puffed up his chest and pointed a thumb at Tanaka. "That's Tanaka Ryuu, Karasuno's next ace, and I," he swished his hand towards himself, "am Nishinoya 'Rolling Thunder' Yuu." When Tanaka snickered and swatted Nishinoya on the back of the head, he scolded and amended, "But just Noya is fine."

"Nishinoya, huh? Chidoriyami?"

Noya nodded. "That's me. We played you guys your third year. Couldn't beat that wicked serve of that captain of yours."

Iwaizumi vaguely recalled the match and that their libero had been exceptionally hard to beat and had gone on to take the top ranking for his position in the tournament. He did clearly recall coveting Nishinoya for Aobajousai, though that never panned out.

Deciding he had done his part to ease the awkwardness of the situation, Iwaizumi gave a slight bow to both Tanaka and Noya and said, "Well, I'll let you boys get ready. Go kick some ass."

"Ossu," they both chirped as they drag-raced towards the Karasuno dressing room.

A soft laugh came from behind Iwaizumi. "That looked a lot more dangerous than it was. We were going to rescue you."

Sawamura was standing behind Iwaizumi, along with Sugawara and Azumane, who were arranged in a pose not unlike the poster Yachi had shown him. He had a feeling his greatest obstacle to acceptance from Shimizu's twelve foster brothers stood before him.

"Iwaizumi," Sawamura acknowledged with a curt nod. "I'm surprised to see you here."

The look Sawamura was giving him was one Iwaizumi could only categorize as a 'dad glare,' which he recalled all too well from the number of times during his childhood that Oikawa had managed misbehave and get Iwaizumi in trouble. Needless to say, it pissed him off, and it took every ounce of goodwill he possessed to keep from standing nose to nose with Sawamura and giving him a hostile glare of his own.

However, his fountain of willpower would not be tested right then. Shimizu stepped next to Iwaizumi and laced her fingers with his. "Hajime is here with me, Dai-san. I hope that isn't a problem."

Sawamura looked back and forth between the two of them several times, mouth hanging open. Finally, it was Sugawara who broke the stalemate by clapping Iwaizumi on the bicep with more strength than his slender frame should rightly possess. "It's nice to have you, Iwaizumi-san! We have to get our Miyagi cheering section somehow. Did you come here with Nee-san?"

"Yeah," Iwaizumi answered, refusing to rub the sore spot in his arm. "You better kick some ass, Karasuno. I don't lose to runners-up."

Sugawara laughed loudly, and Azumane chimed in with a soft chuckle. Even Sawamura's mouth twitched up in a reluctant smile. "We'll do that." With a warm grin, Sugawara passed by Iwaizumi, and Azumane could not follow fast enough. Iwaizumi couldn't help but mark the glaring skittishness in a guy the size of a rugby player.

This left Iwaizumi alone with Shimizu and Sawamura. "Shimizu, could you excuse us for a moment?"

Next to him, Iwaizumi saw Shimizu give Sawamura a sharp look before stepping back and joining Yachi and Saeko. He had a pretty good idea what was coming next. Iwaizumi crossed his arms. "Are you giving me the big brother speech, Sawamura?"

"Do I need to?"

"You tell me. You don't know anything about me."

"Exactly."

Iwaizumi's jaw clenched. "Look, I don't want to start anything. But I don't owe you anything, either, and neither does Kiyoko. If you want to know something about me because it is relevant in some way to you personally, by all means - ask. But I will not be interrogated or threatened by Big Brother because of the team I play for. If you were dating my sister, I would give you the benefit of the doubt. I deserve the same."

Sawamura considered him for a long time, his expression unreadable. Iwaizumi began to think he had been a bit too direct until Sawamura harrumphed and cracked an actual smile. "Honest . . . I'm good with that." He extended his hand. "Take care of her, Iwaizumi. She means a lot to us."

Iwaizumi tried not to sigh in relief as he took Sawamura's peace offering. "Of course." He stood his ground as Sawamura headed towards the locker room, biting back a satisfied smile when he heard Sugawara berating his captain for being mean. Apparently, Sawamura's acceptance was enough to cause the rest of the team to scatter.

At last, he was left alone with Saeko, which he never thought he would be grateful for until then. She ruffled his hair and grinned at him. "Well, looks like ya still got all the important pieces intact. How about we find a place to sit? I hear the Nekoma and Fukurodani boys are gonna be here. They're friends of the family, so to speak."

While Iwaizumi had no idea who the hell Nekoma was, he knew he had heard of Fukurodani someplace before but did not say that aloud. Instead, he followed Saeko back to the elevator and listened to her loudly converse with someone named Makoto, who was giving her directions through the complex, and eventually they found their way the ticketing counter. Thank god for Makoto, he thought to himself as he observed Saeko ask the ticket person which direction the parking garage was.

Saeko paid for her ticket, and Iwaizumi flashed his athletic conference ID, and soon they were ushered to their section. Their assigned seats were not great, but the usher waved at them and mentioned that they would be able to move closer to the court when their team was playing. At this, Iwaizumi breathed a sigh of relief that he wouldn't be forced to regret not bringing the glasses he never wore.

Soon they were following the sound of someone bellowing Saeko's name and arrived to a mishmash of people who looked like they should not be running in the same circle. There was a swath of red-clad players, alongside a few in black and white, green and white, and black and blue. They all seemed pleased to see Karasuno's delegation. One of the players in red leapt from his seat and bellowed, "Saeko-neesaaaaaaaaannnnnn!"

Opening her arms abruptly and almost hitting Iwaizumi in the face, Saeko shouted, "Tora-kuuuuuunn!" They embraced loudly and aggressively as many of the players trickled over to greet her, as well. If at all possible, Iwaizumi felt even more out of place than during the showdown with Sawamura and very much like a third wheel. He was rescued, however, by a player in a black and white jacket, whose expression sat somewhere between disinterest and derision.

"Sorry about them," the black-haired boy said. "They're all a little high-strung. I'm Akaashi, by the way."

Shaking Akaashi's hand, Iwaizumi offered his own name and tried not to sigh in relief when Akaashi pointedly looked at the seat next to him.

"So, Iwaizumi-san," Akaashi started, "what brings an Aobajousai player all the way to Tokyo?"

Iwaizumi jolted at the question. He hadn't expected anyone outside of Karasuno to recognize him. "How'd you know?"

"Everybody knows Oikawa Tooru's team," Akaashi stated matter-of-factly. "We weren't sure whether to expect you guys, Shiratorizawa again, or if our feathered friends here would pull an upset."

"How does a Tokyo team know a team from podunk Miyagi?" Iwaizumi asks, genuinely curious.

Akaashi pointed towards a black-haired boy in a red jacket, who was razzing a short blond kid with a bad dye job. "They're old rivals with Nekoma, who is a neighboring school to ours. They were invited to our multi-team training camp. I'm from Fukurodani." He pointed at the couple of guys in green, "They're from Shinzen," and then to the ones in black and blue, "and they're from Ubugawa."

A couple of those names rang a bell for Iwaizumi. "Shinzen made nationals last year, and your team made it for the past two."

Nodding, Akaashi directed his attention to one of his teammates, who was wrestling with the Nekoma guy from earlier. "That's Bokuto. He's our ace."

Iwaizumi gaped at Bokuto, who he definitely knew by name as an ace himself. One of the top five spikers in the country was crawling over seats like Spider-man. "Is he always this, er, active?"

Akaashi let out a sound that could have passed for a whimper. "You have no idea."

So much for being intimidated by the opposition, Iwaizumi thought to himself. "Yeah, Oikawa's like that, except he has a problem with too many fangirls and practicing himself to death. I've had to throw him over my shoulder more than once and drag his dumb ass home."

"You're the vice, aren't you?" Iwaizumi nodded. "So am I." Akaashi sighed heavily. "When did that stop being cool and start being the official captain babysitter service?"

Iwaizumi shrugged. "I don't know. Sugawara and Sawamura don't seem to have that problem."

"Which is completely unfair." Akaashi slouched in his chair. "So, you never did say why you're here with Karasuno."

Damn, Iwaizumi thought. He had hoped to avoid that question, but Akaashi seemed like a sane sort of guy, so it did not bode as ill for him to tell the truth. "I'm with Shimizu-san. We're, um, maybe-dating."

Quirking a brow, Akaashi nodded appreciatively. "Lucky guy. That idiot and his Karasuno buddies —" he gestured towards the loud Nekoma boy who had nearly tackled Saeko, "— don't stop talking about her."

"I know," Iwaizumi said with a chortle. "They were my welcoming committee. Not as scary as Sawamura, though." He shivered just thinking about Sawamura's oddly intimidating presence. "Is he always that frosty?"

"Sometimes," Akaashi agreed. "But you're in one piece, so must have survived the gauntlet. This bunch won't give you such a hard time."

Akaashi quieted when four teams filtered onto the court below. This was the first time Iwaizumi had looked at his surroundings. The floor really was orange, and it was easily the largest building he had ever been into in his life. Just the fact that their seats were high enough for the players to look like ants put the size of the gym into startling perspective.

He could see Karasuno's black against a team in yellow, and the next court had blue and white versus pink and white. All the teams were preparing to warm up. "They do two-court play in nationals?"

Shaking his head, Akaashi said, "No. Most teams do a pre-warm-up session to get the muscles moving, then go stretch, and those are the teams who will play next."

"Hmm," Iwaizumi replied numbly as he squinted to watch Karasuno's tiny players. "Can we move up soon? I want to get a good look at that ridiculous new toss of Kageyama's."

"Yeah, probably," Akaashi said while getting out of his chair. "Although I think I've seen enough of that one for a lifetime. It took them forever to get it right. It was almost painful to watch, but when they did, it took a week to convince Bokuto-san that I can't do a toss like that."

Iwaizumi huffed. "Sounds like Oikawa a little. He's been convinced that he can't beat Kageyama for the past six years." At Akaashi's surprised expression, he explained, "Back in middle school, Oikawa and I were Kageyama's senpais." Sighing, Iwaizumi shook his head and followed Akaashi to the rail. "We weren't very good ones, though. A lot of his problems with teamwork come from Oikawa not showing him the way and me not making him do it. I'll always regret that."

Akaashi's lips pinched together pensively. "I see. I think he's going to be okay, though. Hinata's energy is a good foil for his moodiness, much like Bokuto-san and myself."

"You don't seem all that moody to me," Iwaizumi answered.

With a meager smile, Akaashi looked up at his roughhousing friends. "That's because you're normal, Iwaizumi-san. If you weren't, I wouldn't still be talking to you. I get enough of that from Bokuto-san."

Iwaizumi laughed. "You're honest. I like you."

From there, they settled in to watch warm-ups, as Karasuno was playing in the first game. The other spectators flocked to the railings, and Iwaizumi found himself scrunched between Akaashi and the loud Nekoma guy, who introduced himself as Kuroo. It wasn't hard to see how a guy like this could make friends with Karasuno players; they were of a similar boisterous nature, tinged with a darkness that Iwaizumi couldn't put his finger on. Iwaizumi refused to pin it on the fact that the guy was probably ten centimeters taller than him.

Karasuno began receive warm-ups, but Iwaizumi found his attention straying from the uniformly decent receives to the girl handing the balls to the coach. It was still pretty far away, but he could see her mouth praises to each of them, even offering small smiles to the first years. He didn't realize he was staring like an idiot, cheek in his palm like a love-struck dunce, until a wry chuckle came from beside him.

"Is someone else in love with Manager-chan, too?" Kuroo teased.

Iwaizumi snapped his hand to his side and stood up straight. He was just about to tell Kuroo to mind his own business when Akaashi spoke up. "Leave him alone, Kuroo-san. That's his girlfriend."

Kuroo just laughed. "Good. Maybe those imbeciles will stop mooning over her."

Akaashi sighed. "Not likely, but it's nice to dream."

Wary of inserting himself into the conversation, Iwaizumi simply resumed watching Shimizu, who was now assisting the Karasuno coach in spiking drills. He couldn't help but notice that her hair shifted like a silken curtain every time she moved, and here and there, it would catch the light. A few weeks ago, he would have kicked his own ass for even thinking such things, but there was something about Shimizu that turned him into an unabashed sap.

He nearly fell over the railing when a hand landed on his shoulder like a lead weight. "Got it for Manager-chan?"

Bokuto stood behind him, a jolly smile across his face that Iwaizumi found it difficult to be angry at. However, not a fan of having his personal space violated, Iwaizumi turned around and gave his fellow ace a slight bow. "It's good to meet you, Bokuto-san."

As intended, the gesture perked up Bokuto and got him to release Iwaizumi's person. "I see my reputation precedes me, even in Aobajousai."

"Indeed it does," Iwaizumi said darkly, ready to take back every nice thought he'd had about Bokuto simply because of the arrogance. "Ushiwaka is the big boy on campus in our neck of the woods. I almost wish I had seen the match between him and Karasuno."

Kuroo nodded solemnly. "Ushiwaka is a tough customer. Lefties are hard to read."

"I broke a finger last year trying to block one of his spikes," Iwaizumi admitted. "Oikawa threatened to egg his house for it."

Bokuto laughed loudly. "I wish he had, just so we could see the look on his sour little face. Oikawa sounds cool. I wanna meet him!"

"I don't think the world is ready for that yet," Iwaizumi muttered, drawing a chuckle out of Akaashi and a smirk from Kuroo. Bokuto merely looked at them all, clearly feeling left out of the joke. Feeling a little bad (but not too much) about that, Iwaizumi asked, "So, anyone here playing today?"

Akaashi nodded. "Both Nekoma and Fukurodani are representing Tokyo this year."

Iwaizumi raised a brow. "And Karasuno went to training camp with you guys? No wonder they were like a completely different team when we played them at the Spring High."

"Oh, we wiped the floor with them," Bokuto supplied. "They only won three sets out of sixty-something."

Glaring at his teammate, Akaashi hissed, "That was rude, Bokuto-san. Just for that, I'm not going to set for you after the games today."

"Akaashi, why do you hate me?" The pout on Bokuto's face looked hilariously out of place on such a big guy, and Iwaizumi couldn't help but guffaw. Bokuto stomped away, interviewing everyone in their extended group to find some poor soul who would set for him, while Kuroo followed him and mocked his efforts.

"Weird," Iwaizumi mused aloud.

"Weird," Akaashi agreed.

Warm-ups began to wind down, with underclassmen and managers hurriedly shagging stray balls. The teams lined up and bowed to the crowd, and then to each other before taking their starting formations. Once she was on the sidelines, Shimizu sought him out and gave a little wave once she spotted him. He ignored the wolf-whistles from behind him and gave her a crooked smile. He thought his heart was going to jump out of his chest when she blushed.

For a moment, Iwaizumi considered blowing a kiss, but as he was surrounded by some of the best players in the country and wanted his dignity intact, he decided to abstain. He wasn't sure if he was up to that level of public displays of affection quite yet.

The match began with a whistle, and the volleyball player in Iwaizumi was rapt right at the first serve. He couldn't see the name of the team on the scoreboard, but Number 3 for the yellow team had one of the most wicked jump serves he had ever seen. He could match Oikawa's aim, but with Ushijima's power. There was a collective gasp when Nishinoya was able to receive it and keep it in the air.

Karasuno took an early lead in the set, which Iwaizumi figured was due to them being a relative unknown. The same teams tended to make the national tournaments over and over; they all knew each other almost as well as Nekoma and Fukurodani did.

However, as Iwaizumi thought might happen, Karasuno's offense was slowly but surely stifled by blockers that easily had ten centimeters greater height on average. The only player on Karasuno who could actually look their opponents' two middle blockers in the eye was Megane-kun.

Iwaizumi wasn't surprised when Karasuno lost the first set. It wasn't a shock when they didn't fare much better in the second. Behind him, Bokuto loudly lamented his 'favorite kouhai' being blocked, and Akaashi cringed.

When Karasuno's loss skirted from the realm of likely to obvious, Akaashi sighed and said, "Maybe next year. It should be interesting to see how they respond when they come to camp this fall."

"You're not a third year?" Iwaizumi asked. "I thought since you were the vice . . ."

Akaashi shrugged. "Our team doesn't work that way. If you're the one who leads the way, you're the captain. It doesn't matter what your age or jersey number is. Bokuto-san was the captain his second year."

With a slight smile, Akaashi got up and said, "Well, it's close to time for us to do our pre-warm-up. It's been nice to talk to someone sane for a change."

"Yeah, you too," Iwaizumi replied truthfully. "Good luck out there."

"Thank you, Iwaizumi-san." Akaashi bowed slightly and left to wrangle Bokuto away from Kuroo.

This left Iwaizumi alone, so he decided to go check in on Saeko. He felt slightly guilty for dumping her as soon as they arrived in the gym, but she was chatting with a few guys who looked like they were in their twenties (her friends, he suspected) and his absence did not look terribly noted.

No one looked to be in a terribly good mood, and the guys Saeko was with looked really into the game. The one in glasses was grinding his teeth and pulling his hair, and Iwaizumi looked down on the court to see Karasuno's Number 12 getting ready to serve with that jump float serve of his. The guy didn't look old enough to be the kid's dad, but it was obvious he cared about how Number 12 did.

Iwaizumi leaned back against the rail and resolved to finish watching the game, no matter the score. Karasuno was down by eight points, with the opponent having already hit twenty points. The ending wasn't hard to predict.

Still, it made him think of Shimizu and how this loss would affect her. Would she cry? The thought of tears in her eyes made Iwaizumi's belly roil uncomfortably. He had enough difficulty dealing with Oikawa's ugly crying, but best friends and girlfriends are very different things. He could just punch Oikawa a couple of times and the ship would right itself, but girls were alien to him. His sister was never much of a crier unless it suited her purposes.

The match ended with a monstrous spike from the yellow team's ace, and Iwaizumi understood the feeling all too well as Karasuno collectively deflated. What did surprise him, though, was that not a single player fell to his knees. They stood still, chests heaving and eyes watering as they watched the other team form a gleeful dogpile on the other side of the court.

On the sidelines, Shimizu had an arm wrapped tightly around Yachi, holding up her kouhai. The coaches looked remarkably stoic as they shepherded their team to the net for the handshake line. Both teams filtered over to bow to the crowd, and Iwaizumi realized how helpless he was when he was forced to watch tear-stained faces go through the motions. As a player, he grasped it as something to do that didn't require thought, but it was so much worse to watch. He wanted to say 'good game,' despite knowing what a loathsome phrase it was to hear.

Iwaizumi looked over to Kuroo, who was standing next to Bad Dye Job. "So, Kenma, what can you tell me about this game?"

"Shouyou is really bad at serving," Kenma answered.

Kuroo scoffed but didn't deny it and then asked, "What else?"

When Kenma stayed silent, Iwaizumi offered, "Karasuno's serving couldn't even compete."

"Right you are, Iwa-chan." Kuroo gave him a smirk when Iwaizumi bristled at the nickname. That expression screamed of someone who loved pushing buttons, and he was on his way to pushing Iwaizumi's.

Unwilling to give Kuroo the satisfaction, Iwaizumi brushed off his irritation and continued with his previous thoughts. "Karasuno only has two jump servers, and Kageyama is the only one who can aim worth a damn. The yellow team probably has guys on the bench who can bring it more than any one of Karasuno's starters. Including Kageyama."

Kuroo laughed. "I dare you to say that to Kageyama's face. Are you a fast runner?"

Kenma socked Kuroo in the shoulder. "Don't bait him, Kuroo. It's rude." Kenma dug a portable gaming device from his pocket and started it up. "Besides, we all know he's right."

Iwaizumi did a double take at Kenma, who he never would've mistaken for a volleyball player if not for the jacket. He wondered what position this kid played for Nekoma and whether he was a starter. Asif he sensed eyes upon him, Kenma looked up at Iwaizumi, blinked slowly, and resumed his gaming. Iwaizumi had a sudden wish that this guileless boy had watched a few of Seijou's matches. They could have done with some impartial critique, and maybe they would be standing on the court instead of Karasuno.

The Nekoma boys began drifting towards the exit, and the few Shinzen and Ubugawa players returned to their assigned seats. That left Iwaizumi alone with the contingent of Karasuno fans. Saeko seemed unnaturally deflated, and the blond guy next to her looked like he was about to cry.

"Tough break," Iwaizumi offered, as he didn't have anything relevant to say but did not relish the awkward silence of the group.

Saeko sighed. "Ryuu is going to take it hard. I don't know what I'm gonna say."

"You don't have to say anything, Nee-san," Iwaizumi replied. "There isn't a thing you could say that he doesn't already know, and nothing that will make him feel better. Losing sucks, so you either work hard to win or get used to being mediocre. Just deal with whatever he decides to do."

The three guys with Saeko nodded. The one with dark hair and glasses squinted at him. "You play for Seijou."

Readying himself for another round of Crows Versus Hajime, Iwaizumi nodded and introduced himself. To his surprise, however, the dark-haired man merely snorted. "I thought that was you." He extended a hand. "Shimada Makoto." He gestured to the older blond man. "Takinoue Yuusuke."

The younger blond guy waved. "Tsukishima Akiteru."

Iwaizumi bowed and shook each hand in turn. They seemed like a good lot, and the older two vaguely reminded him of Matsukawa and Hanamaki. That was around when he remembered where he had heard Shimada's name. "Thanks, by the way, for helping with directions."

"No problem," Shimada replied, blushing a little. "We got lost ourselves, and we figured we'd save Saeko-kun the trouble."

Saeko sighed at the sound of her name. "We should go wait for the boys."

They walked as a group back the Iwaizumi and Saeko had come, and it felt like a wake. He felt like he was attending the funeral of the Karasuno third years' aspirations of glory. It was weird to Iwaizumi how similar it was to the death of Seijou's push for a championship, even though he personally had no stake in either the path to victory or the spoils of it.

But it would've made Shimizu so happy.

It was a long wait outside the changing room before someone emerged, and that person was Yachi. She walked straight to Saeko, who hugged her tightly. Iwaizumi could hear the younger girl sobbing into Saeko's chest, which would have looked comical had he not got the chance to know both of them and genuinely care if they were in distress or not. Shimada stroked Yachi's hair while Takinoue fidgeted awkwardly, and Akiteru stared at the door of the changing room.

Shimizu came out next, her expression appearing calm save for grinding teeth and clenched fists. Iwaizumi could not claim to know Shimizu very well, but he did recognize how much effort she was putting into holding herself together. It made his chest tighten uncomfortably. Quickly, he excused himself from the group and walked up to her.

Taking both her hands into his larger, rougher ones, he laced their fingers together and brushed a kiss against her forehead. "I'm so sorry, Kiyoko."

Her hands trembled in his, and Iwaizumi knew she was about to lose her fight to stay cool. She would hate to do that in front of everyone, especially the team, so he put an arm around her shoulder and guided her to a nearby stairwell. They sat on the top step, and Shimizu buried her face in Iwaizumi's shoulder and let go. Her soft, hiccuping sobs echoed off the concrete; the sound made Iwaizumi want to throw up.

For fifteen long minutes, they sat there with Iwaizumi's arms around Shimizu. No one came looking for them, and he suspected that wasn't a coincidence. When her tears wound down to long, deliberate breaths, he quietly asked, "Do you want to go back?"

Shimizu nodded into his shirt, and with that, he helped her to her feet. His hand was on the door leading back to the locker room hallway when hers stopped him. She stroked his cheek and brought his face down to hers for a lingering kiss. "Thank you, Hajime."

They walked back to where they had left the Karasuno party hand-in-hand and left the building the same way. No one said a word about it, and Iwaizumi thought that this might be actual acceptance from Shimizu's sprawling second family.


End file.
